


happy to comply

by 101places



Series: AOS What If? [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 13:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/101places/pseuds/101places
Summary: What if Bobbi didn't get to Simmons fast enough?( AKA : this fic made me hate myself )
Series: AOS What If? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535711
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	happy to comply

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i hate myself for this. there should be 2 or 3 chapters to this
> 
> content warnings for brainwashing & torture

As Simmons walked back into the lab, she had the strangest feeling that she was being watched. She glanced around at her colleagues out of the corner of her eye, sweeping her hair behind her ears as she did so self-consciously, trying to work out if her paranoia was getting the best of her, or- -

She saw a computer screen and felt her blood run cold.

Behind her, she could hear heavy footsteps, and then the controlled anger of Bakshi, ordering his guards to “Get her.”

Without thought, Simmons ran.

She ran faster than she could remember running, but it wasn’t enough. The guards were stronger than her, more athletic than her. A hand grasped her shoulder tightly. She struggled, trying to lash out and land a lucky blow on his face, or slip out from his grip somehow, but he remained sturdy as a rock, and soon the other two guards were on her.

There was no hope for her to get away now - but that didn’t stop Simmons from fighting. When her arms were held securely, she began kicking out with her feet, and thrashing her head about, trying to bite down on the HYDRA agents arms. She kept fighting, right up until she felt the pinch of a needle in her side, and her movement began to lull to a still as the sedative travelled through her system.

.

The first thing that Simmons knew when she woke was that her whole body ached. She couldn’t place why, at first, but then the events from earlier returned to her mind, and she jolted, her eyes snapping open.

She was restrained, that much she could tell without looking. Her arms were held up above her, and her legs were strapped to the board behind her. The position was uncomfortable, and was likely why she was aching. She tested the straps, trying to see if she could get out somehow, but it was no good. They were made of metal - too hard for her to break out of - and were too tight for her to slip her wrist out of, even if she broke her thumb, she suspected.

It took every ounce of her self control not to panic. She could feel her heart rate escalating, and her breaths becoming shallower, but she shut her eyes and forced herself to breathe properly. Panicking wouldn’t help. Panicking could kill her. She had to stay as calm as she could. She had to think about this logically.

When she felt calmer, she opened her eyes again and looked about the room. From what she could see, the room was empty - though she had no idea if someone was silently waiting behind her. She couldn’t see much. In front of her was a projector screen, but there was currently nothing being projected. When she strained to see out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a selection of instruments laid out on a table to her side, and was unable to suppress a sob of fear as her mind began to race, suggesting what the instruments could be used for.

Her panic was beginning to grow out of control, but she tried to force herself to calm again.  _ It’s okay. It’s okay _ , she tried to convince herself,  _ Coulson wouldn’t have let me come here without surveillance. SHIELD will come soon. Just hold out until then _ .

With those thoughts in mind, she was able to refocus her attention, concentrating on the constant sound of a metronome, coming from somewhere that she couldn’t see. Tic, tic, tic, tic. With every few beats of the metronome she forced herself to take a breath, breathing in time with it, until she had returned to a level of control.

And then, the door opened.

She could hear a pair of footsteps approaching her. She wondered if she could get away with pretending to still be asleep, but the newcomer had stepped in front of her before she made her mind up.

She recognised him as Doctor Whitehall. She had seen him in a meeting the day prior. She had been intimidated by him then, but now as he stood too close for comfort and dissected her with a curious look, she felt terrified.

Still, she did her best to keep her terror for showing on her face, staring up at him defiantly.

“Dr Simmons.” Whitehall greeted. “You have lied to us.”

Simmons tried to wet her dry lips. “I- I only-”

There wasn’t a lie that she could think of that would get her out of this. They had all seen the photo. There was no denying that it was her, and there was no denying that it was real. If she had been loyal to HYDRA, there was no reason for her to have been corresponding to SHIELD without her supervisors knowledge. There would be no talking her way out of this.

“Go on. I’m curious to see what you have to say.”

“I… I thought that I- I thought that I could gather information-”

Whitehall cut her off with a little laugh and turned around to the table at her side. She could feel her heart-rate increasing. When he turned back to her he had a collection of metal objects in his hand that Simmons couldn’t quite see clearly enough in the dim light.

He stepped closer, so that she could feel the heat coming from her body, and reached forwards, placing the objects above and below her eyes. She realised what they were meant for and shut her eyes as tightly as she could, but her brief defiance didn’t delay him for more than a moment, as he pried her eyes open and connected the prongs to her eyelids, preventing them from closing.

Next, Whitehall turned and walked behind her. Simmons could feel her fear rising now that she couldn’t see him - at least when he was in front of her she could prepare herself for whatever he chose to do. She tensed her body and prepared herself for an attack from behind, trying her best to ignore the stinging that was beginning to come from her too-long-opened eyes, but no attack came.

Instead, the projector screen in front of her burst to life, and a hypnotic pattern played. With horrible clarity, Simmons came to understand what would happen to her.

This wasn’t an interrogation. She wasn’t going to be tortured for information. No, this was much, much worse. Whitehall intended to take the one thing that she had always been able to trust in from her - her mind.

“Take a deep breath.” Whitehall began. Underneath his voice, she could hear the sound of liquid pouring. “Calm your mind. You know what is best. What is best is you comply. Compliance will be rewarded.”

Simmons tried to avert her gaze. She strained her eyes, looking away from the screen, but she knew that there would only be so long that she would be able to keep this up. Her eyes were already burning and filling with tears. Silently, she hoped that the team would come for her soon.

.

It was difficult to keep track of time. A few times, Simmons tried to count the ticking of the metronome, but her thoughts were interrupted by Whitehall coming too close, inspecting her. Her thoughts became a panicked jumble, and by the time that she was able to reign them back under control, she found that she couldn’t remember what number she had gotten to.

It could have been hours, or it could have only been minutes. Simmons could have believed anything.

At some point during the day, Whitehall walked across the room, standing just within her vision, to her side. He wasn’t facing her. He was facing the collection of terrible tools that she could hardly see, but understood the purpose of well enough. She felt her stomach drop with dread.

“It seems that you are having difficulty concentrating.” Whitehall stated, selecting a pair of pliers.

All that Simmons could manage in response was a quiet whimper.

.

Some time later, Simmons body felt as if it was on fire. Her arms, her eyes, and various other places were pulsating with pain. Her skin was damp with sweat, her cheeks wet with tears as her eyes desperately tried to soothe themselves. She knew that she must look quite the mess, but that was the least of her concerns.

Somewhere distantly, Whitehall was speaking. Offering her sweet words, about how all of this could be over if she complied. The projector continued to play swirling images that Simmons knew she would be lost in if she allowed herself to focus on them. She knew that she had to keep her mind to herself, but it was becoming harder and harder not to give in. The pain was nearly intolerable, and would only become worse. If she just let herself truly see, and truly hear, then she could find peace.

But the pain was necessary, wasn’t it? The pain was necessary not just to ground herself in reality, but as penance for the terrible crime that she had committed. She had allowed herself to place her trust in a terrible person. She had allowed her best friend to become severely injured for her sake. This was no more than what she deserved. That was why she had agreed to come to HYDRA.

Wasn’t this what she had wanted all along?

So she renewed her focus on the pain. She let herself drown in it - she let it consume her until it was all that she was, and she let the sounds and sights of the real world melt away.

.

“The Faustus Method affects everyone differently.” Whitehall was speaking, but not to Simmons, who wasn’t listening. He was speaking to someone new, who was stood where Simmons couldn’t see him, but had a voice that she would have recognised instantly, had she been paying attention.

“Quite.” Bakshi spoke. “I hope that these files will provide… enlightening.”

“I am sure that they will. Good day, Bakshi. I don’t expect that I will be much longer here.”

Bakshi turned and left the room, leaving Simmons and Whitehall alone.

There was silence as Whitehall read over the files, then the sound of them being placed heavily on a surface, but Simmons was as deaf to this as she was blind to the projected images.

“Tell me about Leopold Fitz.”

Suddenly, Simmons was neither deaf nor blind.

Her senses came back into focus, her mind shifting from focusing on the pain to replaying what Whitehall had said.

“Fitz…” She croaked out, the first word that she had said since this had started.

Whitehall was standing in front of her now, a shark-like smile on his face as he closed in on his prey. After looking at her for a moment, he stepped aside so that she could see the projected images directly in front of her.

“Your partner since you were a child. Where is he now?”

Simmons found that she couldn’t take her eyes off of the swirling images, and she couldn’t retreat back into the distant mental space that she had been hiding in for the past - she wasn’t sure how long - while Whitehall spoke about Fitz.

Whitehall stepped closer to her side, so his face was close to her ear. “You seem distressed. Tell me about it.”

Simmons tried to resist, but the swirling images and her mental and physical exhaustion, combined with the almost gentle tone to Whitehall’s voice, got the best of her.

“He… he was hurt… because of me…” She began and, after that, the words just didn’t stop coming.

.

“Are you ready to comply?”

“I’m ready to comply.”

Simmons voice was blank, as was her face. Tears still tracked down her cheeks, but that was just a natural reaction to being unable to blink. There was no emotion behind it. It was as if her soul had been scooped out of her - but even before this process, she wouldn’t have accepted such a thing as an explanation.

No, the reality of it was that her conscious mind had been successfully buried. She could access memories, for the most part, but her own desires, morals and values were suppressed. She was aware of what she used to stand for, but that didn’t matter anymore. That had only caused her pain and heartache in the past. It was so much easier, so much more right, to follow the orders of her superiors. To comply.

Whitehall released the restraints on her wrists and ankles, before walking away. Simmons didn’t concern herself with what he was doing next, instead detaching the apparatus from her head, blinking her eyes, wiping away some of her remaining tears, and stepping away from the board. She turned the corner, facing Whitehall obediently.

He returned to her, a glass of water in his hand, “Your compliance will be rewarded.” He said as he offered it to her.

She took it and gulped down mouthfuls of the clear liquid. It was the most wonderful thing she had tasted in her life, she thought, but her pleasure was overwhelmed by gratefulness towards Whitehall. How kind of him, to offer her such a thing.

“These gentlemen will take you to your quarters,” He swept his hand aside, gesturing to a pair of HYDRA agents standing by the door. They could have been the men who had brought her here in the first place - she couldn’t tell. “There, you may rest and clean yourself. You will receive further instructions tomorrow.”

Simmons nodded her head politely at Dr Whitehall.

“Happy to comply.”


End file.
